#so eyeshadow takes a backseat now but maybe i can learn again

[yuwuta]

looking back on undergrad pics and my full halo eye and liquid lipstick at 3pm was crazy and now i can’t do my eye makeup for shit

[what-even-is-thiss]

Fic, Off of Land, Out of Water, Part 3. Optimism.

Part 3 of the mer au. Uuuuhhhhhhh... warning for mention of transphobia and allusion to self harm but its not explicit or important ‘kay this was a hard chapter to write I hope you like it it’s got 2,531 words, bye.

First Previous Next

Abstract: We meet Virgil’s brothers.

3. Optimism

Patton drove faster. Roman turned the radio up louder. Patton reached over and fully turned it off.

“I swear, you’re worse than mom.” Roman said.

Patton made a face at him and then stepped on the gas again.

“How have you been doing by the way? With her?” Roman said.

“Roman, today is about a fishy situation with Virgil’s friend, alright?” Patton said. “Let’s find something good to think about.”

He smiled. Roman sighed and put his socked feet up on the dash.

“Fine, don’t talk about it but I know your fake smile when I see it.”

“Oh, I’m just worried about Virgil.”

“All of us are always worried about Virgil.” Roman said, putting his feet down and unwrapping a piece of gum. “Everything all the time always about Virgil. He’s like an anti middle child, I swear.”

Patton laughed. “I kind of wish I could argue with you about that but here we are. Going to pick him up again.”

“I prefer to look at it as performing a service.” Roman said.

………..

Virgil sat on the one flat rock and gently made waves in the water with his tail. He had to prop himself up against another rock to do this because his new anatomy wasn’t made for sitting up. Patton sat in his lap (if you could all it that) in a swimsuit. His swimsuit was a weird combination of grey and blue boxers and a frilly pink crop top. He was twelve now and even though he was only two years younger than his brother Virgil was always the big one in their family and Patton was missing some things.

They were alone together. Seagulls yelled overhead. Patton watched them with no interest.

“So what is it like down there?” Patton asked eventually.

“People are people. Judgy.” Virgil said.

“Know when you’re coming home?” 

“Next year maybe. But only for a couple weeks at a time. Can you get off?”

Patton scrambled off. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Just too much after a while. Now can I ask you a question while mom isn’t around?”

“Yeah!”

“What’s with that?”

He pointed at the swimsuit.

“Mom got worse after you left. Decided she wouldn’t sign off on blockers but I’m making the best of it. Blah, right?”

He let out a strained laugh and Virgil gently slapped his face. He still wasn’t letting him get away with the fake laughter. They went silent again for a minute. Seagulls yelled some more.

“So who do you live with down there?”

“The witch.” Virgil said. “I call her Val because she kind of reminds me of that teacher you had in kindergarten. Too happy. Too nice.”

“I don’t think you can be too nice.” Patton said happily. 

“Whatever. She’s getting old.” Virgil said.

They went quiet again. The weight of a year apart sat between them. The knowledge that they’d never catch up on it all in one afternoon. The fear that they might never catch up again.

They heard a car in the distance. The sound of running and Roman shouting about hamburgers and the parents apologizing about traffic followed it. Patton wondered if Virgil was as tempted to vanish into the water as he was.

………..

Logan was nothing like Roman had expected.

“He’s nothing like I expected.” Roman said.

“Well what were you expecting?” Asked the new angry man sitting in their secret rock cave.

“I don’t know. Something more dramatic.” Roman said, helping Virgil to get Logan on his feet.

Patton grabbed the ice chest and shoved Virgil’s phone into Virgil’s pocket.

“Personal space, much?” Virgil asked as Logan fell over again. “Hey! I told you, we can carry you to the car.”

“I can tell that I don’t want that.” Logan said. 

“As the one who's usually the shortest, I know.” Patton said, smiling.

“Why does he keep baring his teeth at me?” Logan asked. 

“It’s the way humans smile, Logan. Get used to it. Especially around Patton.” Virgil said. “Hey, move your legs!”

“I’m not exactly used to having them yet, you know!”

After a good deal of lifting and shuffling and eventually some help from Patton as well, they stuffed Logan into the backseat of Patton’s black SUV. Virgil was the one to position him and quietly click and hiss something at him when he looked frightened of the seatbelt. As Patton and Roman took their places in the front it wasn’t lost on them how touchy Virgil was being with Logan in the backseat.

Virgil took a moment from clicking to say “Don’t start the car yet.” in English.

Patton adjusted the rearview mirror to see what they were doing. The body language was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Logan, smaller than even Patton was and probably in shock, seemed to be looking everywhere but the ground. Virgil coughed as he tried and failed to make a certain sound in the back of his throat. The seawater wasn’t quite out of his system yet. Logan bumped him in the chest with his head in a really casual way.

“Yeah I’m fine, thanks.” Virgil said. “I’ll just say it this way. The car is going to make noises. I’ll explain the noises to you later. It’s safe, alright?”

“It’s powered by fire. How good can it be?” Logan mumbled.

“You just think that because your only experience with fire is volcanos.” Virgil said.

He ran a hand down the length of Logan’s spine. Logan winced.

“What is happening to my eyes?” Logan asked, a curious tone in his voice.

“You’re crying. I’m sorry!” Patton called back. “We really have to get moving though, Virgil. I can never find my way back to the road in the dark.”

Virgil made a noise of agreement and Patton turned the key.

……….

Roman carefully placed both of his hands beneath the wig and removed it. The cap was next. He checked his teeth in the mirror. No, he hadn’t been performing all night with lipstick on his teeth. Of course that had only happened the first time but he was still paranoid about it. Every single time. 

He pulled the dress off and stripped to his underwear slowly, untucking and unstuffing everything. Eventually it was all undone and he pulled on a pair of jeans and an undershirt before going to work on removing the makeup.

“Get lipstick on your teeth again?” said a deep voice in the doorway.

Roman looked in the mirror. Tall, dark hair, light freckled skin, black jacket, a look in his eyes that was just a little off. Young enough that the stress of living in modern America hadn’t yet put dark rings under his eyes so he made his own with eyeshadow.

“How’d they let you in?” Roman asked, throwing away a third makeup wipe.

“Stage manager knows me by now.”

“Not enough to know that you’re aro, I’m assuming, fish boy?” Roman asked.

Virgil chuckled. “Well if it gets me free beer…”

Roman turned around and approached with his arms open. Virgil accepted the hug and patted him on the back.

“You’re just as bad as the rest of us.” Roman said, pulling his button up on. “So tell me why you’ve decided to let me bless you with my presence.”

Virgil shoved him and turned off the drag queen’s mirror lights for him. They started walking out of the club.

“Patton and I were thinking about doing the tattoo thing you suggested.”

“Wait, what?”

Virgil shrugged and pulled some gum out of his pocket. Roman took one. He knew he didn’t have to ask.

“I figure if I get it on my leg it won’t show up down there and you’re looking for a way to avoid questions about the scars on your arm so why not? Pat’s got a design. His scars are finally healed enough. You wanna go right now?”

They reached Roman’s car. Roman assumed Virgil had taken an Uber or something. He assumed. He might never know. There was a lot he didn’t know about his younger brothers. There was a lot he had to assume. There was a lot he had missed out on with them, but would he miss out on an opportunity right now to make a stupid memory? Hell no.

“Well if you’re being fun and spontaneous for once I’m  gonna bank on it. Sure.” Roman said, showing all of his perfect white teeth and clean face, both now totally free of lipstick.

“Cool. You’re the only sober one. Let’s go steal Patton.” Virgil said.

……….

Every time Logan clung to a blanket or felt strange at someone touching him he looked surprised at himself. The fact that human behavior came so naturally was worrying. They were all taking shifts looking after him. Usually it was Virgil but Virgil sometimes had to go into a recording session for some radio commercial or an audition for a voiceover or meet with his agent. Sometimes he returned to the ocean because, well, he had to. So during those times Roman or Patton would have to take over the “humanization process” as they had dubbed it. Or, “project Logan”

It was mostly Roman that used the first one.

Learning to walk proved to be difficult and teaching him manners proved to be even more difficult. Patton ended up getting nights, after Logan was tired of walking ten steps and then falling over and over all day long. So he mostly taught Logan how to read. As such, he ended up explaining a lot of strange things in picture books to him.

“Why do you always depict merpeople with bare skin?” Logan asked one day.

Patton looked up from the mug of tea he was stirring creamer into.

“Hmm?” he asked.

Logan held open the picture book he was reading. There was a mermaid in a clam shell bra, happily singing. Logan had already explained to Patton at length why clam shell bras would be awful ideas and woven strips of cloth made from seaweed and sometimes hair were used when a person felt compelled to cover or contain that area were much better ideas and used by merpeople with breasts all the time. Patton had heard that lecture many times, in fact. He had not, however, heard the complaint about skin.

Patton moved to the couch to sit next to Logan, his sleepy eyes almost making him spill his tea. The couch in Virgil’s apartment was a small leather loveseat. Logan didn’t seem to care about the closeness. Merpeople never seemed to care about closeness, Patton had noticed. They touched each other without thinking. He looked over Logan’s shoulder as he pointed at the illustrations in the fairy tale book.

“None of them have scale patterns. Almost all of them have belly buttons.” Logan said, pointing at various drawings in confusion

“Do you not have a belly button?” Patton asked.

“Of course not.” Logan said. “Virgil has told me now how mammals reproduce and I was absolutely not created that way.”

Patton moved closer and started tracing the large splotchy birthmark surrounding Logan’s left eye.

“You seem kind of disgusted by it.”

Patton sounded almost hurt.

“Well, I am.” Logan said, gently moving Patton’s hand away.

“Well… thank you for your honesty, kiddo.”

“I am older than you.”

Patton giggled. “Obviously, but I’m still me. I’m the dad friend. So is that birthmark where your scales would normally be?”

Logan nodded and lifted up his shirt in response. Patton got a good look. Freckles formed a series of swirls and lines on his skin. And it was true. Logan had no belly button.

“That’s fun. So you were born from an egg?” Patton asked.

Logan quickly put his shirt down, shut the book, and looked embarrassed.

“It is highly improper to discuss reproduction in polite company.”

“Right, sorry.” Patton said.

“That story about the sea foam though.” Logan said. “Ignoring all the inaccuracies it reminds me of  the story Virgil told me. About the day he went under.”

“That’s a good one.” Patton mused. “I was there for it.”

As usual he couldn’t think of much else to say.

“Yes, but one that led to strange markings, I suppose.

“Want to see my strange markings?” Patton asked.

“Out of curiosity, yes.”

Patton lifted up his shirt and showed Logan the scars and the tattoo of a merman holding a tragedy mask over his left scar.

“For Virgil and Roman.” he explained. 

“I never expected humans to decorate their skin.” Logan said.

“What did you expect then?” Patton asked, almost like he was questioning a child.

“I… don’t know.”

“Your idea of us was like our idea of you.” Patton said, tapping the fairy tale book.

“Oh.”

Logan looked off into the distance, seemingly understanding something now. Patton rested his eyes on him wistfully, wondering why he’d never asked more questions of Virgil. Why he didn’t ask more questions of Logan now. Why his brain wasn’t good at forming questions in the first place.

He wondered what it was like down there. He knew what it was like to be in saltwater, but not to breathe it. He knew what it was like to be close to someone, but not to the extent that he wouldn’t flinch at the touch of a stranger.

He wondered, too, what Logan was thinking about.

“With video recording,” Logan said, “Could you… I’m not sure how it works but could it record me saying something and then keep it forever?”

“Until someone decides to delete it.” Patton said.

“Then with that and these,” he held up a book, “why did I just dedicate my entire goddamn life to memorizing things?”

“I see that Virgil taught you how to swear.”

……….

Patton wiped the tears from his eyes. He never did cope with pain that well.

He looked at Roman’s bandaged arm from the backseat. Virgil stuck his phone with the aux cord in the cup holder and turned up the speakers loud. 

It sounded just like when Roman first got his license and became an adult only in a legal sense. When Patton was 13 and foolishly taping his chest down with packing tape that left his body constantly sticky and sore. Like the summer they drove away to Disney World without their parents knowing. When Virgil was homeschooled for two weeks at a time and always smelled like saltwater. When dad and mom still loved each other and the band that made this music was still together. It sounded like the first conversation they’d ever had about getting tattoos together.

It sounded like The Black Parade.

Sober now, horribly, criminally sober, with a new picture on his chest and his brothers screaming off key in the front seat, Patton drifted off, his glasses sure to leave a mark on his face when he woke up.

Roman sang until he was hoarse, ignoring the bandages and how similar the tattoo would feel to what it was covering up.

Virgil, for once, didn’t think. The pain on the back of his leg barely registering as anything. The celtic cross it formed barely meaning anything to him.

...........

Logan lay on the bed next to Virgil, for some reason not feeling compelled to cling to him. Must be a human thing. He slid to the floor and sat, his knees pulled to his face.

Virgil’s soft snoring broke the ice of the early morning fear just enough to get his brain working. The series of freckles and birthmarks on his skin looked mystical in the moonlight. Like he was destined to find some sort of meaning in it. Maybe he was. Maybe he could.

Maybe there was a way to connect to the past with it.

[dazaineedshelp]

There was a subtle shift in the air between them. Maybe it was his inner cat, with eyes adapted to catch rapid movements of prey, or perhaps his repressed abandonment issues, but Atsushi just knew. He was not oblivious, nor blind.  

The polite smile that hasn’t reached his eyes when Atsushi offered him a freshly brewed coffee last Friday morning. The indifferent look, wandering all around the office, refusing to meet with his own questioning gaze. His posture stiffening whenever the boy entered the room, whether it was with armfuls of papers or a tray of still-warm donuts. Dazai was clearly distancing himself, not in general - from him, specifically. Aside from avoiding Atsushi, nothing much changed in his usual doings. Still messing around with Kunikida’s patience, still hanging out with Yosano at the lunchtime, still playing it witty with Ranpo while snacking more intensely than actually working.

And truth be told, why wouldn’t he?

Wet strands framing his pale face as the downpour kept roaring all around them. Atsushi brushing these stubborn curls out of his forehead, his palm somehow wandering down to cup Dazai’s cheek. So cold, why was his skin so cold? Silly, always forgetting to wear a proper scarf. His lips were chapped too, fractures rough under his fingertips. A few drops of autumn rain dripped from his hair and fell onto his eyelashes, and there was something so intense behind his gaze, something hungry in the way his breath hitched suddenly…

He flinched when a hand rested on his shoulder.

‘You seemed out of it for a while.’ There was a concerned tone lingering to Kyouka’s usual reserved voice. The boy just shot her an awkward smile and brushed it off with some light-hearted response, both going back to papers accumulated on their desks in hurry.

Atsushi could physically feel Dazai’s eyes rested on his back, but did not turn around once and rushed out of the Agency as soon as the clock struck six.

The cheerful ringtone cut through the silence of his apartment, sounding like a giggle at the funeral. He quickly put the foamy plate back into the sink and rushed towards the counter, but the name on the screen made his stomach drop.

He almost didn’t pick up. Almost.

‘Dazai-san?’

No response. Only raspy and uneven breaths. He could feel piercing anxiety hit the air out of his lungs, but he didn’t waver. Something was clearly wrong.

‘I am so sorry -’ a dry chuckle came out of the speaker. ‘Miss, click. That was just a. Misclick Atsushi-chan. My apologies-I’

‘Don’t you hang up on me! Give me the address, I’m coming to get you-’

Two squeaky beeps and then silence. Damn it.

He grabbed his car keys and run out of his flat and down the staircase, almost tripping over himself. Call it a sixth sense, but he was pretty convinced he knew the address anyway.

The cold breeze filled his lungs as he climbed out of his car, sending shivers down his spine. The bridge was empty, not a soul in sight, just a crescent moon illuminating the waves on the abyss-like waters. Atsushi felt a sinking feeling grasping his insides deepen, the darkest scenarios flooding his racing mind. If not here, then…

Down there.

A frail silhouette curled up on the top of breakwater proved him right. Atsushi didn’t even realize he was running down the slope, his legs seemed to move on his own, please don’t, oh my god, please just- When he reached the rocks, suddenly his body refused to keep going, paralyzed by the visions crumbling in his head. A shaky step forward, then another one, and another…

Dazai’s eyes were closed, the man clearly unconscious, but breathing. His chest would rise and fall, shallow puffs escaping his mouth, and Atsushi felt like crying out of relief. Now that he got that awful oh please don’t be dead you stupid son of a out of his chest, he was able to take a closer look at the ground, and once again, he felt like throwing up.

There were bottles, of course, quite a lot of them- vodka, a few beers, whiskey. But what made him sick were not the alcohol bottles, it was the smallest one, full of pills, that had slipped out of man’s coat when he shook him. Unopened, but clearly he tried, there were cracks and traces of teeth on the lid, childproof cap actually, and the boy just…

And the boy just threw the bottle into the ocean, cradled Dazai in his arms and brought him to the car. He avoided the holes on the way back, constantly fixing his mirror to look onto the backseat.

To make sure that he was still there.

If Atsushi was to describe the morning, it would be one word - awkward. After he tucked his friend in and put some water along with hangover medication on the bedstand, he sat in the gloom of his petit kitchen, desperately trying to figure out how to handle the next morning- to get out of the flat with the dawn and leave a heartfelt note? Or sit his half-alive friend through the wholesome preach while sobbing constantly? None of the options seemed realistic, not to mention that Dazai despised him now, disgusted by how he feels about him, so…

So he didn’t come up with anything that would actually work out and was surprised how quickly his overthinking made the time move. And now the sun was shining, Dazai started to stir around in the sheets, threatening that he is gonna wake up soon, and there was only one thing that the boy knew how to manage - the pancakes. Nothing can go wrong with pancakes, except maybe everything, because the man that probably hated him was laying in his bed, suicidal man, distant man,

the boy that he fell for.

But Atsushi made him breakfast anyway, because what else was he to do.

‘Hi.’

A small mumble escaped the mouth of a person behind him, and he stiffened without turning back. He decided on being distant, just as the man wanted it, but it would be impossible if he looked him in the face.

‘Good morning, Dazai-san. How do you feel today?’

‘Like I had dug a grave with my teeth last night,’ he chuckled and leaned by the counter, just a few inches from Atsushi, and he could feel how close they were- ‘whatcha cooking? It smells amazing.’

‘But you are not-’ he remarked, hyper-focusing on turning the pancake to the other side, ‘-so how about you go and take a shower, and I’ll finish the breakfast? I left you some clean clothes on the dryer.’

Usually, the response would be a loud protest about hurting his poor feelings, but Dazai just left without a word this time. No humming came from the shower either.

And then they were sitting in awkward silence, both munching their chocolate pancakes, not bothering to pick up a conversation. Too much unfinished business. Too much unsaid words stored on their tongues. Too much…

‘We should talk.’

Perplexed that the words had actually left his mouth, Atsushi shot an uneasy glance at Dazai, but there was no anger in his eyes. More like, defeat. They were completely numb, like when he told him to stay away, that he is disgusting, that…

‘Probably. I’m sorry for bothering you last night.’

‘You know that is not what I meant, Dazai, we need to talk about us not being able to work together, about the pills in your pockets, we were friends, so just-’

A strangled laugh broke in his desperate rant, and before he knew it, Dazai’s face was inches from his own, something dark in his eyes that made Atsushi shiver. He didn’t turn his gaze away.

As before, his lips were chapped and faded, deep eyeshadows and sharp cheekbones so close, raw, real, and Atsushi felt weak, so weak-

‘Were we friends, Atsushi? I don’t think I know such a thing. I’m not the best match for you, a warm, kind-hearted-’

- that he wanted to just bury his hands in the messy hair, bring this helpless boy close, keep him warm, safe-

‘-savior of Yokohama. I hurt, kill, bring doom, and you are not any exception-’

- and loved, because he was so scared, and now Atsushi noticed this void of fear, fear of the past, of the future-

‘- I would just hurt you, dear tiger boy. So,’ he finally leaned back slightly, his voice dripping with venom, ‘we’re better of without each other, Atsushi-chan.’

‘You’re scared.’

Silence. This time it was Atsushi who came closer to the man, almost pinning him to the wall, as he was too astonished to make a move.

‘The more you lie like this, the more I become aware-’

his voice was so shaky but he was not backing away, there was no turning back, now that he knew

‘- how terrified you are. Like there’s no new beginning for a person like you. Like there is - like there is no learning. But whatever you feel-’

he took a step closer, felt Dazai’s warmth and uneven breaths on his skin, looked into his wide eyes, reached out his trembling hand, to touch, make sure, no turning back

‘- you can tell me, and we will make it work. Because I care-’

their lips were so close he could feel man’s breath brushing his cheek, and he came only closer, voice turning into the whisper, now that

‘- and I know that you do too.’

Their lips met hesitantly at first, butterfly kiss so fragile and breakable, fluttering hearts and rushing minds. It quickly turned into the desperate passion, unsaid I missed you and Please, don’t let go whimpered by the way Dazai came undone with Atsushi’s tongue exploring his own, a wall coming to the rescue as his trembling knees almost gave in. The boy untangled his right hand from the brown strands and hugged him tightly, not breaking the contact. A small moan escaped Dazai’s mouth, and he was melting, dying and blooming all at once. He brought Atsushi even closer, their bodies tangled together, and-

and he, for a moment, believed in new beginnings.